


Darcy Lewis, Queen of the Diapers.

by xfayewrites



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, either way this is fluffy af, just a tiny bit?, plus a bit of angst bc sam wilson deserves so much better, well kind of at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6388774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfayewrites/pseuds/xfayewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis, full-time political science student, part-time Queen of the Diapers, adopts a soldier.</p>
<p>Sam Wilson, full-time birb, part-time troll, gets help exactly when he needs it.</p>
<p>This is based on a tumblr prompt by the wonderful dragongoddess13 you can find here. <a href="http://dragongoddess13.tumblr.com/post/122110914230/darcy-lewis-au-fic-idea"> click </a>. The story deviates from the prompt just a tiny bit to accommodate the fact that Darcy only works in the daycare center for the summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darcy Lewis, Queen of the Diapers.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragongoddess13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragongoddess13/gifts).



> Based on this prompt:
> 
> This will pretty much work with anyone in the MCU whose served in the military.
> 
> But basically Darcy is a school teacher for young kids and she enrolled her class in the “Adopt a Soldier” program.
> 
> The kids love it, they send letters and care packages to the soldiers serving over seas and even Darcy does it. They don’t all get answers but Darcy explains that the soldiers are very busy and she knows they appreciate what they did for them even if they can’t write back and tell them.
> 
> What Darcy doesn’t know is that one of the little kids put their favorite toy in their care package with a note about how it always makes them feel safe and protected and they want the soldier to feel that way too.
> 
> A few months later the soldier who received the care package returns home and goes to the school to find the child and return their toy. And that’s how Darcy and whatever person you ship with her meets.

Out of all the summer jobs Darcy Lewis had worked in her lifetime, she had to admit to herself that this was _by far_ her favourite. Despite the fact that college was seriously killing her bank account and her summer and part-time jobs were the only thing keeping her afloat (student loans were _shit_ , who thought that being twenty-something and seriously in debt was a good idea for _anyone_ ? How could college in so many countries be _free_ , but not here?), Darcy found herself enjoying this particular one-- since school and kindergarden was over for the rest of the summer and many parents lacked grandparents to watch their offspring during the hot months, Darcy had no issue finding a job at a daycare center, where she assisted in the entertainment of America’s tomorrow. As the oldest sister of three, Darcy knew her way around breaking up fights between young children and coaxing toddlers (and distracted scientists alike, as it turned out later in her life) into taking an afternoon nap, all the while making sure that the kids still loved her. Within a week, the kids followed her around like tiny ducklings-- Darcy would refer to herself as ‘Queen of the Diapers’ to anyone who wanted to listen (and anyone who _didn’t_ want to listen, too, in true Darcy Lewis fashion).

 

In return for their admiration, Darcy made sure that _Miss Darcy_ days were the _most exciting_ days for the little kids-- she’d organize trips to the zoo, the museum, the playgrounds around the facility, animal shelters and the like; The children just _knew_ that whenever Miss Darcy was around, they were going to have fun. Eventually, one warm Monday afternoon, Darcy found herself out of ideas. The last time she had worked with her group, they had made a huge batch of brownies and cookies to bring to the elderly care facility a few blocks down, which had been such an incredible success for the young kids-- seeing the smiles on the faces of the wonderful residents there had made Darcy tear up discreetly several times. The kids had loved it as well-- being able to take care of someone else had been fun for them and Darcy wished she could do something similar again, without making the process repetitive for the kids (Art day twice in quick succession had taught her enough about how much diversity the kids wanted to have in their entertainment-- she made sure to not repeat her past mistake).

 

Out of sheer dumb luck (as Darcy put it, even though she made sure to not use the d-word in front of her kids, because the word _crap_ had spread last week like a wildfire in the entire center as Darcy had accidentally dropped a spoon of batter on the ground) she came across the flyer for the Adopt a Soldier Program at her local drugstore when she made a tampon run-- and within two hours, she had signed up her daycare class for it, including herself. The nice lady at the local Vet center immediately gave her a list of Soldiers they could write to-- armed with several pens, boxes, glitter and said list, Darcy went to work the next day.

 

Several of the kids were excited at the prospect of sending presents to the brave soldiers overseas-- Darcy made sure to explain to them exactly what these incredible people were doing for their country and why it was important for their class to give a little bit of kindness back. The first two hours were a blur of _Miss Darcy!_ everywhere-- by the time Darcy shooed the kids off to lunch break, her feet hurt, her eyes felt funny and she was covered in glitter and water colors. The results were beautiful-- the plain boxes were decorated beautifully, covered in the genuine, sweet attempts of artwork. After lunch, Darcy and the kids were making lists-- since Tuesdays through Thursdays were _Miss Darcy_ days, Darcy would come back tomorrow and help the kids pack their boxes. For now, they made lists of what they wanted to send their own soldier overseas-- there was a lot of chocolate and candy that Darcy heartily approved of. Some items like a gameboy had to be vetoed by the woman, since the parents would probably not approve of their children sending over such kinds of presents. One kid actually wanted to send over a kitten (“ _But Miss Darcy, Snowball just had so many kittens, I can spare one!” “Sure, bud, but kittens don’t like being sent away in a package.” “Ooooh…”_ ), but all in all there were some great ideas around. Darcy made sure to write notes to the parents so the kids would actually have these items to pack their boxes next day.

 

In the safety of her own apartment in the evening, Darcy sat down and packed her own box. Unable to _not_ send a care package herself, she spent more time than she ever had on decorating her box-- her own art was only marginally better than the ones her kids had made (the only thing that could actually be recognized with certainty was the american flag on that box), but Darcy was pretty damn proud of herself. Her own box was filled with all kinds of candy and chocolate as well as some self-made baked goods that Darcy _hoped_ would still be good by the time they reached her soldier. A copy of two books she had just recently read made it in as well, accompanied by an old ipod and headphones she didn’t use anymore. The music remained on, obviously-- she hoped that her soldier liked Marvin Gaye and The Spice Girls. As a last item, she sent along one of the last few things she still had from her childhood-- a well-loved Bucky Bear, full equipped with a dark blue jacket and massive paws. Maybe she felt a little silly sending along a teddy bear to a grown soldier ( _Samuel Wilson_ , he certainly sounded like a grown ass man), but in all her years, Darcy had never felt more at home than she had with that bear-- it had been a present from a father, a veteran as well, and Darcy knew that sometimes something fluffy to hold on to could make all the difference.

 

As a last act, she wrote a letter to her soldier-- the children would do the exact same thing the next day, but Darcy wanted to be ahead of the curve.

 

_Dear Mr. Wilson,_

 

_First of all, I want to thank you for your service. I have no idea what you might be going through over there, but I genuinely want to thank you for putting your life at risk to protect us people at home. It means the world to me._

 

_My name is Darcy Lewis and I am a political science major at Culver university. I work at a daycare center during the summer and saw the Adopt a Soldier ad; This is why I’m writing to you. The kids had a blast making these little care packages for you guys over there, so I had to give it a try myself. I hope you like chocolate-- in case you don’t, there’s some non-chocolaty stuff as well. I hope the baked goods make it as well._

 

_I also hope you don’t think I’m weird for sending you my Bucky Bear (yes, it’s mine, not someone else’s), but that bear has helped me through some tough times as well and sometimes, I just feel like something cuddly to hold on to is exactly what the doctor prescribed. (That and some beer, but I can’t send you that, sorry!)_

 

_I hope you are okay over there and I’d love to hear from you sometime. Or not. Whatever floats your boat. Stay safe._

 

_Darcy Lewis_

 

The next day, the kids did the exact same thing-- Darcy spent hours making sure that the kid’s writing was readable, but she ignored all the spelling and grammatical errors (they were authentic, alright?). By the time the kids went home, Darcy had already secured all boxes. She brought them to the post office the very next day.

 

* * *

 

Sam Wilson turned the blueberry muffin between his fingers, eying it suspiciously. He was no man to turn down some classic baking, but the date on the letter attached to the package made him question whether it would still be safe to eat. He gave it a try nonetheless and was pleasantly surprised-- the texture was a bit softer than he generally would like, the muffin made a bit soggy by the blueberries and time, but the taste was _otherworldly_ . “Damn good, isn’t it?” Riley asked next to him and Sam nodded, turning to look at his best friend; Riley himself was chewing on the brownie he stole out of Sam’s box. ( _Because of course that idiot couldn’t ask, but then again, Sam took Riley’s Mars bar so it was all evened out_ ). Sam kept chewing on his muffin, entirely blissed out, before he fished an old, well-loved Bucky Bear out of his box. With a smile, he placed the plushie onto his chest while he laid back in his bed to read the letter again and again, one earbud stuck in his ear as he bobbed his foot to the voice of Marvin Gaye.

 

Bucky Bear didn’t leave Sam Wilson’s bunk that day, no matter how much Riley teased him for it.

 

Riley might have also lost a couple of more Mars bars later that day due to mysterious circumstances.

 

* * *

  

His throat hurt. Not quite as much as his chest did, but his throat fucking _hurt_ . His eyes were swollen, his voice almost completely gone and his fingers hadn’t stopped shaking ever since he got back onto solid ground, stumbling to get over to his friend, hoping, _praying_ , _begging_ God for a miracle that Sam usually knew better than to believe in.

 

_A standard PJ rescue op. Nothing we haven’t done a thousand times before._

 

**_Standard_ ** _rescue op. Done a_ **_thousand_ ** _times before._

 

Sam’s legs hit the front of his bed and he almost stumbled as he fell into the scratchy sheets, breathing shallowly. Riley’s absence laid upon Sam’s shoulders like a million bricks, the lack of rude-ass comments and horrible jokes creating the silence that Sam had craved so many times since being over there-- but unlike his expectations, the quiet was deafening, making his head spin, his heart beat painfully against his ribs. A soft presence against his face made him look up-- from the way he had flopped onto the bed, the bear had rolled down from his pillow onto his face. Shakily, Sam reached out and pulled the bear closer to his chest, trying to regulate his breathing as his fingers held on tight to the gritty, yet still soft fur. Pain still radiated through his chest as he wept yet again, tears leaking out of his eyes hot and salty once more, but _he’ll be damned_ if he didn’t breathe just a little bit easier as he rubbed his nose into the head of the bear and sucked in all the air he could get.

 

* * *

 

 

A new year at Culver found Darcy yet another step closer to her degree and even though she was _still_ lacking those damn six science credits, she didn’t let that stop her (rumor had it that an internship with a scientist could solve that, so Darcy was putting all her hopes into that, because so far nobody had applied to crazy Dr. Foster’s internship). She did miss her kids at the daycare center-- many of them actually received answers from their soldiers before the summer was up, dancing around Darcy in excitement, begging her to read the letters out loud to them _just one more time_. Darcy was among the few that didn’t get anything in return, sadly, but she didn’t let that stop her. These people certainly had more important things to do than answer her letter-- they were busy protecting the damn country, after all.

 

Thus, nobody was more surprised than Darcy when a young, tall, _beautiful_ black man approached her at one of the sets of tables and benches across campus, where Darcy was currently devouring one of her homemade blueberry muffins while simultaneously attempting to prove her point in her essay. “I remember these.”, he said as some sort of greeting and Darcy looked up, following his gaze to find him looking at her muffins. “Dude, if you want to hit on people, you need to get yourself some better moves.” She commented dryly-- her patience with grown up people certainly was less extensive than her patience with kids.

 

He seemed a bit shocked for a moment, taking a step back-- it seemed as though he only then realized what he had actually said and he threw his head back laughing, his hand coming up to cup the back of his neck in a gesture that should convey embarrassment. “Man, I guess that sounded creepy. I mean, I _literally_ remember those. You sent them to me-- I’m Sam Wilson. Unless you’re not Darcy Lewis, then please tell me, so I can go find a hole to jump into.”

 

Now it was her turn to be shocked-- Darcy blinked and looked at him, from top to bottom, lips parted as though not enough oxygen was getting into her brain by the force of her nostrils alone. Because _hot damn_ . “ _You’re_ Sam Wilson? Oh my god, you’re back!” Darcy found herself overwhelmed with the need to hug this guy or at least shake his hand, so she decided on the less creepy option and jumped up, grabbing his hand with a wide smile. “I _am_ Darcy, actually. How did you find me?” Sam seemed relieved, because he returned her smile just as widely-- he had a tiny gap between his teeth and Darcy wondered whether it would be inappropriate for her to imagine nudging her tongue against it, before biting his lower lip a little. It probably was. _Your dry spell isn’t even funny anymore, Darce. Concentrate._

 

“Well, in my defense, you told me your name and where you go to school. Which, in hindsight, don’t do that again to complete strangers?” Darcy saw the point of that. “Yeah, well, are you going to chop me into pieces and bury my body in your backyard?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes at that, an amused gleam in his eye. “I don’t have a backyard, actually.”

 

Darcy beamed up at him. “This must be my lucky day, then.” Sam smiled wistfully and for a moment, Darcy wondered whether she had said the wrong thing, because Sam's fingers reached underneath his jacket-- and he pulled out something Darcy would never admit she had missed as much as she did. "My bear.", she muttered, her lashes sweeping up to look at the soldier, confusion bleeding into her expression. "You kept him.", she added, utter amazement in her gaze. That bear had meant a lot to her-- nobody had been there beside her during long, sleepless nights as tears would slither down her cheeks and dampen her curls, nights in which she felt  _numb_ , too numb to bother to brush away the tears. That bear, however-- that bear had always been there, a present from her childhood that would remind her that even the biggest obstacles could be overcome.

"Of course.", Sam answered matter-of-factly, his fingers twitching slightly against the bear in a way that made Darcy wonder whether sending it along had been the best judgement call she had ever made in her life. "You didn't have to bring him back. I didn't expect you to." 

Sam nodded, but held out the bear either way-- Darcy took it gingerly, her fingers turning the well-loved plushie to examine him for any injuries; he looked just the way he had when she had sent him over. Had Sam washed him? "I know that. But I finally got to go home and... I figured, maybe this little guy should go home too." This was about more than that, Darcy knew it as she looked up at Sam Wilson, his eyes holding something,  _something_ inside that made her smile and reach out to nudge her fingers against his.

 

"So, Sam, how do you feel about shared custody for Sergeant Bucky Bear?"

  
"He's been promoted to General Bear, actually. Let's talk about schedules over coffee."

 

"Deal."

 

* * *

  

“ _Sam!_ Are you alright? I called you a thousand times! Hey, did I really see you on TV helping Captain America deal with that whole DC Hydra debacle?”

 

“Sorry, babe, my phone was kind of fried. But yeah, that was me. I’m sorry, I should have told you before-- shit kind of went down pretty quickly.”

 

“So Cap really _did_ outrun you that morning! I thought you were messing with me-- wait a minute.  _Holy shit_ , my boyfriend is a superhero.”

 

“Well, Darce, technically--”

 

“ _A superhero._ I’m Lois Fucking Lane.”

 

“You’re never going to let this one go, are you?”

 

“Nope. Are you going to bring Captain Tightass and Black Widow over for some post-saving-the-world food? Emphasis on Widow, please, ‘cause that chick is everything to me.”

 

“Are you making those blueberry muffins again?”

 

“Yessir.”

 

“Great. I’ll ask them. But Darcy, could you--”

 

“Put General Bucky Bear out of sight? Already done, babe. He’s taking a vacay in my underwear drawer.”

 

“The lucky bastard.”


End file.
